


Extraordinary

by ThatNerdyGirl



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, LIKE YOU HAVE NO IDEA, M/M, Scomiche, Scott is so prejudiced, There are some fandom teachers, amazingness, but that's cuz he's a demon, demons and angels complex, he gets over himself, i hope you like it to, i love this, kirstie's so super cute like omg, should this be a kavi thing too, super cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-02-21 20:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2482019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatNerdyGirl/pseuds/ThatNerdyGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott's a demon, and like all demons, he despises angels. But, when he meets Mitch, a sweet yet slightly devious angel, he thinks that maybe angels aren't as bad as they're made out to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What To Expect of the Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘He’s the Devil,’ Scott growled mentally. ‘The wings don’t even matter. He’s the Devil trapped inside an angel’s body.’

Scott was late to class, and he knew it.

In a way, he was relieved: he wouldn’t have to suffer through the ‘introductions’ that you always experienced at the beginning of a school year, where all of the students have to stand in a circle and say their names, favorite color, and whatever else the teacher comes up with. He figured college wouldn’t be any different. But, he was still late, and he _really_ didn’t want to be.

He raced down the hallway in a desperate effort to find the apparently hidden chemistry classroom in the goddamned gigantic university, his huge, leathery wings flapping madly behind him.

He had always been proud of his wings. They were a true black – so black that they appeared a deep blue or purple in direct light – that faded into a midnight blue at the tips, which ended in small talons. They didn’t have any scars or burns upon them: he had never really enjoyed the rough fights that his fellow demons liked, and his family didn’t take the yearly trip to Hell. In fact, Scott wasn’t really jealous when the other kids had bragged about meeting Lucifer himself – he was just another fallen angel, wasn’t he?

Scott’s tail was fashioned in a similar manner: black with a blue tip, ending in the incredibly cliché spike that humans added in their cartoons. Ugh, humans. Scott really didn’t see the appeal of them.

Then again, most demons didn’t. Angels, though, were another story. The angels bonded with humans more often than demons did, but it was still pretty unusual for a human to marry _any_ form of the supernatural. Angels marrying demons, however, was unheard of. One might even say that it was unnatural.

Scott continued scurrying down the hall, the panic he had felt before now faded into a dull resignation. He wasn’t going to be able to make it to class.

The halls were completely empty: everyone else seemed to have the entire university memorized and found their classes with ease. Scott snorted at them with some ferocity.

Taking the extreme emptiness of the corridor under consideration, Scott sat down onto the cool tile, setting his supplies – journals, pencils, pens, etc – beside him. He leaned back on his hands, enjoying the silence while it lasted. Which was not for very long.

He suddenly felt a slightly painful tug on his right wing, and an ‘ _Ooof!_ ’ of surprise was heard, accompanied by the sound of several items hitting the ground with dull _thunks._

“Um, _ow,_ ” Scott stressed, leaping to his feet and turning so that he could see his offender.

It was an angel, naturally.

The heavenly creature glared up at him with warm brown eyes from his place on the floor, scowling. Scott frowned at him. “You might want to watch where you’re going, _angel._ ” He spat the last word out like it was the worst insult to be heard on Earth. Said angel raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t reside in the middle of the hallway, then.”

The angel flared out his wings in his frustration with Scott, and for a moment, Scott was unaware of his surroundings.

The angels wings were, pardon, _fucking gorgeous._ They were a deep, chocolate brown, small black specks freckling the feathers. The feathers themselves were each individually tipped in black.

The angel snapped them against his back when he noticed Scott’s staring, and began to scramble around for his books, which had scattered everywhere. “Why are you here?” Scott asked snidely, tone clearly indicating that he thought he was superior. “Classes started half an hour ago.”

The angel gave him look that clearly stated that he thought Scott was an idiot. “I’m _late,_ obviously. What were you doing, sitting in the _middle_ of the _hallway?_ ”

Scott didn’t feel like explaining his situation, so he instead settled for a simpler answer. “Just relaxing.”

The angel didn’t respond, and instead continued to shuffle around for his possessions, stuffing them all into a shoulder bag. Scott knelt down and began to help him, albeit begrudgingly. “I’m Scott,” he started, feeling a little guilty.

“Mitch,” the angel grunted.

They continued to hunt for stray pencils and pens in silence, until (finally) it appeared that all of the supplies had been picked up off of the gray and blue tile. Scott stood up, brushing off his wings and stretching, but Mitch remained on the ground, bent low and eyes scanning for an unknown object.

“Um, what are you looking for?” Scott asked, chuckling a little meanly.

Mitch didn’t answer, and still continued to crawl across the floor, searching for something. Scott sighed, now a bit annoyed. “I _said:_ what are you looking for?”

Mitch ignored him again. Scott slumped a little, his leathery wings drooping behind him. Mitch was clearly still upset with him. This meant Scott had to do one of two things: apologize and find out what the _hell_ the angel was still looking for, or he could accept Mitch’s silence as a dismissal and walk away.

Alright, the curiosity was killing him.

Scott took a deep, calming breath in preparation of what he was about to do. ‘ _You’re over reacting, Scott. It’s just an ‘I’m sorry.’ You can do it, idiot.’_ Scott thought. His entire body shuddered at the thought, and Mitch shot him a strange look as he shivered.

Scott ignored him and inhaled largely through his nose. _‘Here we go.’_

“I – I’m sorry,” he managed to choke out.

Mitch looked at him, surprised, before he noticed Scott’s great pain in the apology. He grinned too wickedly to be anywhere near angelic. “Sorry for _what,_ exactly?”

‘ _He’s the Devil,’_ Scott growled mentally. _‘The wings don’t even matter. He’s the Devil trapped inside an angel’s body.’_

“I think you know what I’m, er, _regretting._ ”

Mitch turned his gaze up at the ceiling and shrugged. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

Scott’s eyes rolled skyward. “I am _sorry_ for _tripping you,_ therefore causing you to _fall_ and drop your things.”

Mitch grinned genuinely, and Scott was a bit taken aback from its radiance. Damn angels. Mitch turned back to scanning the floor. “You’re forgiven,” he told Scott in a soft tone.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Please, no chick flick moments.”

He couldn’t see his face, but Scott was absolutely _certain_ that Mitch was rolling his eyes.

He stood there, awkwardly, watching Mitch crawl around on the floor, his feathers rustling slightly from the movement. Scott’s own wings gave an irritated flap. “What are you even _looking_ for? We’ve gotten everything!” he nearly cried in his exasperation.

Mitch turned around to look at him, red dusting his cheeks lightly.

 _‘He is not adorable he is not adorable he is_ not _adorable – okay, goddammit, he’s adorable. But that doesn’t mean anything.’_

“I’m, uhm, missing a pen,” Mitch said, blushing harder. Scott raised an eyebrow. “O _kay,_ just leave it; I’ll get you another one.”

Mitch’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “A _demon_ offering to do something _kind?_ The world must be ending!”

Scott scowled. “No, trust me, this is for my own benefit.”

“How so?”

“Er – nothing that concerns you.”

Mitch shook his head and set back to work. Scott took a step toward him. “Did you hear me? I offered to buy you a new one, just leave it.”

“Um, no. I mean, this pen is sort of, uh, _special._ ” Mitch’s already crimson cheeks deepened in color. Scott was rather amused.

“And how is this pen ‘special’?”

“It’s my, erm, lucky pen.”

Scott laughed, and ignored the obvious cuteness that Mitch presented himself with. There was _no possible way_ that Scott found an angel attractive. “Dude, I’ll just get you a new – wait, is this it?” Scott stooped down towards the floor and plucked a green gel pen off of the tile, holding it up for Mitch to see. Mitch’s wings slumped in relief.

“Yes, thank you.”

“I don’t see why you have such a serious attachment to a pen, but, to each his own,” Scott taunted. “Just, please, inform me when the wedding is. I would _love_ to be there.”

Mitch glared up at him as he snapped his bag shut, the pen safely inside, with more force than necessary. “Well, it sure was _lovely_ to meet you, Scott, but I have to get going.” Sarcasm dripping off of every word, Mitch was already heading down the long hallway, his back to Scott.

Scott was a little irritated by the sarcasm, and shouted after him, “All right! See you later, Shortie!”

He held back a bout of laughter as Mitch’s huge wings gave a flutter of indignation at the insult. As soon as Mitch’s retreating back disappeared down the hall, Scott turned back to where his stuff lay, silence now pressing against his ears. He was maybe just a _little_ bit lonely without company.

***

In the end, Scott decided to just forget about the class and explore his new dorm room, and to meet his roommate (he crossed his fingers for a nice, devilish demon).

Naturally, he got the unexpected.

After he had spent _ages_ trying to locate room 221 in the B building (seriously, was this place a maze?), he had expected to jump onto his bed and set up his section of the room, maybe catch a little shut eye. Unfortunately, that is not what he received as his welcoming present.

Instead, when the dark door labeled ‘221B’ in gold swung open, he was greeted with obnoxiously loud Queen music playing, and a bearded man was lounging on the couch. Scott scowled; this wasn’t cool.

“Hey!” he said loudly, slamming the door shut behind him to increase the startling effect. The man jumped up, a smile already on his face. Scott narrowed his eyes – where were his _wings?_

“Um, hi,” the guy said awkwardly. Scott noted, with annoyance, that the dude hadn’t even bothered to turn down his aggressively _eighties_ music. “You must be the new roommate,” the guy continued. Scott didn’t respond. For a while, there was an extremely awkward silence stretching between them.

He was _human._

This didn’t make any sense whatsoever. This was a school especially designed for demons and angels _only –_ no humans had been included in the mix. In Scott’s eyes, humans were only a little higher than angels on the social ladder. Only a _little._

“I said, ‘hello’,” his very _human_ roommate said, annoyance coloring his tone.

“You’re a human,” Scott informed him, raising an eyebrow in disgust.

The guy shot him a look. “Yes, and you’re a demon. The world is just _full_ of surprises today.”

Scott scowled at the human’s mocking tone. “You’re not allowed here.”

The guy rolled his eyes. “Nice to meet you too. The name’s Kaplan. Avi Kaplan.”

Scott narrowed his eyes at Avi’s cheesy antics and reluctantly said, “Scott Hoying.”

Avi raised his eyebrows and nodded, grabbing a thick book from his nightstand and plopping down on his bed, burying his nose into what was apparently a very riveting tale.

Scott glared at him for a while before falling onto his own bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. College was proving to be a little different than what he’d originally thought.

***

Scott awoke with a jolt to his alarm clock, his fairly pleasant dream (full of hell fire and torture) dissipating quickly. He groaned loudly and buried his face into his pillow, trying to ignore his blaring alarm. He vaguely heard a deep voice from across the room mutter, “Shut up.”

He ignored his roommate and tried desperately to fall back asleep, but to no avail; his alarm clock’s incessant beeping was keeping him from accomplishing his goal. So, half asleep, he climbed out of bed to get dressed for the day, struggling to get his wings into the wing-holes in his shirt, not for the first time. He glared at the sleeping form of Avi on his way to the bathroom.

Unlike the chemistry classroom, he had no trouble getting to the English room.

He was actually pretty early to class, which was a shock to him, Satan, and who knows who else. Only a few students sat at the tables, talking quietly. Scott was just about to seat himself at the table nearest to the door (to escape easier, if things go amiss) before the teacher cleared his throat loudly.

“You won’t be sitting there, Mr. Hoying. I’ve put you up there along with Mr. Grassi,” he said kindly, pointing to one of the tables in the back of the room. His voice was rough and gravelly, and admittedly pretty sexy.

Scott shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Whatever, gorgeous.”

The teacher narrowed his eyes and him and tilted his head to the side, similar to a puppy. “I ask you to treat me with respect, Mr. Hoying.”

Scott’s eyes rolled skyward. “Okay, whatever, Mr. Novak.”

Mr. Novak rolled his shockingly blue eyes, and Scott just barely caught his mutter of “ _Demons,”_ under his breath.

Scott flung his bag onto the table and spun around, curious as to why the teacher would have said that. When Mr. Novak turned his back to the class to write something on the blackboard, the answer was very clear.

A pair of big, fluffy black wings were folded against his back, the feathers fluffed up and messy, just like his dark hair. Of course he was an angel. It was just Scott’s luck.

Scott snorted at his the state of disarray his teacher’s wings were in and kicked his feet up to rest on the table, leaning back against his chair and folding his arms behind his head to complete the look. He instantly sat up when Mitch, the angel he had met the previous day, walked in, looking rather nervous.

“Um, Mr…?” Mitch asked the teacher.

Mr. Novak smiled. “Novak,” he finished kindly.

Mitch nodded. “Mr. Novak, uh, where do I sit?”

Scott tuned out the conversation, already bored with it, until he watched Mr. Novak point up towards him, saying, “—over there with Mr. Hoying.” Mitch instantly frowned upon seeing his new classmate, and continued to look displeased the entire journey to his chair next to Scott.

Scott grinned mockingly at him. “Nice to see you again, Mitch.”

Mitch ignored him as he sat his stuff down, pulling out a spiral notebook and several different colored pens. Scott observed him with interest as Mitch organized the pens until they were all in a straight line, in rainbow order, and opened up the notebook. Mitch glanced up at the blackboard, jotting something down. Scott noted that Mitch’s handwriting was lovely; it was slanted and curvy, almost like cursive. But, Scott assumed that all angels had lovely handwriting, because it just seemed right.

Scott looked up at the board, and seemed to deflate. “Oh, come _on,_ there’s a focus? I thought those ended in high school!”

This got a response out of Mitch. “ _Yes,_ of _course_ there is. It’s not like college is a school or anything, right? We just laze out, doing nothing, very similar to what we like to do in the _hallway,”_ he snapped.

Scott raised his eyebrows at Mitch’s outburst. “Geez, dude. I was joking.”

Mitch looked shocked. “I’m sorry, that was actually really rude of me. I’m just grumpy, I guess.” Even Mitch looked unimpressed at his excuse.

Scott snorted and rolled his eyes and the angel’s behavior. “Yeah, whatever, Featherbutt.” He was well practiced in the art of denying apologies. It was his second nature.

Mitch glowered at the derogatory nickname, but didn’t say anything, instead focusing on Mr. Novak as he started the class. Scott smirked. _‘Maybe angels aren’t so bad.’_

Scott was immediately horrified that he had allowed that one thought to even cross his mind. Angels were horrible. It was in his nature to hate them. ‘ _But maybe Mitch is different._ ’

Scott smothered the thought and stamped it down. There was _no way_ he liked the heavenly creature. No. Way.

He was just glad that angels couldn’t read minds. Because a demon liking an angel… well, that was impossible.


	2. Humans and Demons and Angels, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Of course. I’m Scott.”
> 
> She grinned. ‘Again,’ Scott thought mournfully.
> 
> “You can call me Kirstie,” she said cheerfully.
> 
> “You ready to face this class, Kristie?”
> 
> She laughed and shook her head. “It’s Kirstie, like ‘thirsty’ with a ‘k’.”

On the morning of the second day of classes, Scott was rudely awoken by obnoxious laughter echoing from the kitchen. It appeared as though Avi had invited someone over. He was proving himself to be more of a douche-bag each day.

Scott thought briefly about yelling at them, decided he was too tired, and tried to go back to sleep and ignore them.

They only seemed to get louder.

He turned (more like flopped dramatically over) so that his back was turned on them, and even buried his head underneath his pillow. It worked, but, he was unfortunately forced to resurface after discovering that the pillow was suffocating and he indeed required air to live.

So, this plan foiled, he simply shut his eyes and tried desperately to return to the bliss of unconsciousness. Apparently, closing his eyes increased to volume of Avi and his friend, and it was impossible to sleep.

This was around the point when Scott started to get angry.

The final straw was when Avi’s friend let out another bout of loud, shrieking laughter. He sounded like a goddamned _banshee._ Scott’s head popped up, his blonde hair sticking up at odd angles, and he shouted, relieving his feelings. “Will you guys _shut up?_ ” he yelled in the direction of the kitchenette. “It’s like, eight in the morning!” he reasoned, snuggling back into his covers when the response was a deafening silence.

“Thank _you,_ ” he muttered to himself, fluffing his pillow back up.

Then, Avi spoke. “Scott, it’s almost noon.”

Scott froze in the middle of fluffing, his head turned towards the kitchenette. The _human_ (Scott still shuddered when he remembered he was _rooming_ with one) had to be pulling his tail. “ _What?_ ” he said in a tone that suggesting he would skin Avi alive if he was lying.

He could _feel_ Avi rolling his eyes. “It’s noon, not eight. Don’t you have class soon?”

“Yes!” Scott half-screamed, popping out of bed as if it were _comfortable._ No demon wanted _that._ He darted to the dresser, taking a t-shirt out at random and tugging it on. Naturally, his wing got caught in the wing-hole. (It was his left. It had a knack for this sort of thing.)

He twisted and turned desperately, but to no avail. He finally just twisted his body so that he could grab his wing and yank it out. By then he was breathing rather heavily, half out of anger and half out of exercise. He pulled his jeans on and glanced at the bathroom, tail whipping in anxiety. There would be no time for the usual shower-and-gel routine. Deodorant and a quick comb-through would have to suffice.

After he deemed himself decent enough, he went straight for the kitchenette, eager for a good, strong cup of coffee.

Once he had entered the kitchenette and observed his surroundings, his wings flared out in surprise and agitation. There was an _angel_ sitting at the table, a smirking Avi placed right beside him.

He growled. _Growled._ “You have _got_ to be kidding me,” he snarled, grabbing a coffee cup out of the cabinet so roughly that the others just rattled around, threatening to fall. “He isn’t even a _normal_ angel.”

It was true. The angel, instead of having just two wings, he had _four._ Fucking _four_ wings, goddammit. It looked _weird._

The angel didn’t even have the courtesy to look offended by his comment. He just merely smiled, amused at Scott’s behavior. He was basically _glowing_ with holiness.

Scott scowled at him, so angry that smoke might have well have been coming out of his ears. He slammed the button on the coffee pot, waiting impatiently for it to make the stupid coffee.

Avi then deemed it a good moment to introduce Scott and the angel. As if Scott _cared._

“Scott,” the bearded man said, clearly getting a kick out of Scott’s bad mood. “This is Kevin. Kevin, this is Scott.”

They watched as Scott pulled the coffee pot off of its holder violently, pour himself a cup, and down it all in one gulp. “He’s not a morning person,” Avi added as Scott dumped the mug in the sink.

Kevin’s wings puffed up in surprise at the loud noise it caused. Scott noted that they were a glossy black, brown at the tips, and were carefully smoothed down and well cared for, unlike Mr. Novak’s. He also couldn’t help but think that they weren’t as pretty as Mitch’s, either.

He mentally slapped himself. Comparing the angels’ wings was stupid and a waste of time.

“Hello, Scott,” Kevin said, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over the three.

“Ugh,” Scott groaned in response, grabbing his hoodie and backpack and exiting the dorm, running down the hallway towards his next class – theater.

0o0

He finally made it, panting, to his class. Luckily, he wasn’t late.

The bell might have rung as soon as he had stepped foot into the classroom, but he was not late.

After he finished praising Satan for his stroke of luck, he surveyed his surroundings, finding a very odd but cozy classroom.

In fact, it was downright _unusual._

Large, puffy beanbag chairs of different colors were scattered around in no particular order, except that they were all facing the small stage at the front of the classroom. Little wooden squares were placed in front of each beanbag, serving as what Scott assumed was an available writing surface. Thin textbooks sat at the side of each chair with a cheap, thin plastic mask that you could buy at a dollar store placed on top of them.

A teacher’s desk sat in the corner of the classroom, and about one million books were placed on shelves that lined the walls of the room. Posters of Broadway shows such as _Phantom of the Opera_ and _Wicked_ were plastered on the walls, so that you couldn’t see what color they were painted.

Scott wandered towards the nearest empty beanbag, a blue one, and plopped himself onto it, admiring at how it didn’t explode upon impact.

He stared around some more, amazed at how far the teacher had gone in decorating, until a voice startled him out of his thoughts.

“Hey!”

His head whipped around, bewildered, to find a demon girl in a yellow beanbag smiling at him. He frowned, suspicious. No demon was that happy.

He decided to be polite, for the Hell of it.

“Hi.”

She watched as he picked up his plastic mask and held it up to his face. The mask’s white features were twisted into a suffering expression. “Is this supposed to represent my feelings upon being here?” he asked snarkily.

She giggled and lifted her own mask up to her face. This one looked like it would frolic through a field of flowers and rainbows and crap.

 _‘How fitting,’_ he thought sardonically.

“I think they’re supposed to represent the genres of theater. Like that symbol you see everywhere,” she told him. He smirked.

“Of course. I’m Scott.”

She grinned. _‘Again,’_ Scott thought mournfully.

“You can call me Kirstie,” she said cheerfully.

“You ready to face this class, Kristie?”

She laughed and shook her head. “It’s _Kirstie,_ like ‘thirsty’ with a ‘k’.”

Interesting metaphor for her name.

“Oh, sorry, _Kirstie._ ” Scott raised his sad mask to his face to convey his feelings to her. Kirstie smiled at him and opened her mouth to say something else, but the teacher had begun speaking.

The teacher was… _also_ odd.

“Alright, class!” she greeted, clapping her hands together. “I’m Miss Day, your theater teacher. Sorry, kids, but we’re not doing theater today! I’ve got a little activity for you guys to do—” Everyone groaned in unison. “—It’s fun, don’t worry. Here’s what you’re going to do: take a look at your mask. I see everyone has already noticed them. If you have a sad face,” Miss Day pulled an especially dramatic tortured expression. “Then you have to find a happy face to balance it out! If you have a happy face, then vice-versa! Once you find your partner, come up to me to get a list of items. We’re doing a scavenger hunt!”

Scott but back another groan. A scavenger hunt, really? Were they in the third grade?

He made eye contact with Kirstie immediately, glad that he had gotten to know someone else before class had started. He didn’t want to be the one kid that the teachers has to find a partner for, or worse, the teacher _is_ their partner.

“Let’s go get the list,” he said, sounding like they were in a James Bond movie. Kirstie stood up and laughed, her red wings flapping along with her chuckles, the black spots on them seeming to multiply with the motion. Scott rolled his eyes at her behavior and grabbed her hand, dragging her towards Miss Day.

By the time they reached her the rest of the class had only just begun to shuffle reluctantly out of their beanbags, unwilling to be social with their classmates.

Miss Day looked absolutely delighted when they approached her. “Somebody’s going to win!” she said enthusiastically. “Now, does at least one of you have a phone?”

Simultaneously, both Kirstie and Scott dug their phones out of their pockets and raised them up for the instructor to see. Miss Day smiled widely. “Excellent! Here are your lists,” she handed them each a brightly colored piece of paper. “Take a picture of the item once you find it, okay?”

Scott and Kirstie both nodded and turned, ready to begin. “Wait!” Miss Day called to their retreating backs. Scott turned around, sighing impatiently.

“What?” he said rudely. Miss Day didn’t seem to notice or care about his disrespectful tone.

“There’s a prize. If you guys are the first to get all twenty items first, you both get a giant Hershey’s candy bar!” She said it as if it were the best thing to ever happen to anyone ever.

Kirstie just nodded. “That’s… _great,_ ” she said, before dragging Scott off.

Despite Kirstie’s lack of enthusiasm, Scott was ready to win a candy bar, if only to see everyone else’s faces when they discovered that their candy winning dreams were crushed. Perhaps he was a bit to into this, but, he’s allowed to be excited for _some_ things.

“We’re going to win us some candy,” Scott exclaimed.

Here are some of the not-so-excited things that came out of the demons’ mouths.

-       “A TARDIS? What the Hell is a TARDIS?”

-       “An elephant? I guess she means a pot or something?”

-       “Shit, that candy bar had better be good.”

-       “What’d you mean, it’s over _there?_ ”

Unfortunately, the end result was not the one Scott had been expecting. They were not the ones to find everything first, due to Scott’s stubbornness that a TARDIS was simply not fair, since who in Hell knew what that was?

The fact that a pair of angels had won was like rubbing salt into an open wound.

“Freaking angels,” Scott muttered crossly to Kirstie, who was stuffing things in her bag.

“Scott, it’s just candy,” she said before walking out of the room, Scott running to catch up to her.

“Yeah, but it was _good_ candy!” he whined. He may have been being immature, but c’mon, it was _candy._ Kirstie just rolled her eyes in response. Scott decided to drop the topic.

“Where are you going next?” Scott asked instead, still fuming slightly about the scavenger hunt results.

She perked up at the change of topic. “Ugh, _math,_ ” she said, adjusting the strap of her shoulder bag. “The teacher there isn’t just a demon, he’s the _Devil._ ” There was a silence. “Or so I’ve heard,” she added nonchalantly.

Scott laughed. “I seriously doubt that Lucifer is teaching Algebra, Kirst.”

She looked surprised at the nickname, but then grinned. “So, what do _you_ have next?”

He sighed. “English. Mr. Novak’s too nice for his own good. He won’t even _yell._ He just does this weird thing where he looks kind of like a kicked puppy and then you feel horrible and stop. Which that in itself is weird, because demons are _supposed_ to like kicking puppies, ya know?”

Kirstie shrugged. “I like Mr. Novak. He’s sweet.”

Scott looked at his new friend, appalled. “How are you a _demon?_ ”

She just looked at him and laughed. “Here’s my stop. Good luck dealing with Mr. Too-Nice-For-His-Own-Good!”

He glared at her until she was in the classroom, and basically ran to English.

 _That_ classroom was in a different building entirely.

0o0

Now, he _was_ late to English.

He burst into the classroom, interrupting Mr. Novak in the middle of a sentence.

“I’m glad you could join us, Mr. Hoying,” he said, nodding to Scott as he hurried towards his seat, where Mitch was smirking at him. “I’ll let you get by this time,” Mr. Novak warned, before going on about some new project they would be getting soon.

“Hello! It’s _so_ nice to see you,” Mitch said quietly as Scott sat down, sarcasm dripping off of every word. Scott smiled sweetly at him before fishing out his notes and a pen, taking off the cap with his teeth.

“Ew,” Mitch said, any meanness in him dissolving in that one moment. Scott smirked. “You have to do what you have to do, Featherbutt.”

Mitch scowled at the nickname and swung around to face the front again, taking notes. After a few moments of silence between the two, Mitch said quietly, “I’d appreciate it if you would stop calling me that.”

Scott frowned. “Why?”

Mitch shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. “Because it’s rude.”

“And why would I care?”

Mitch looked like he’d been stung, and Scott regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Which was weird, because he’d never felt that way before. God, what was Mitch _doing_ to him?

“I’m sorry.” The words stuck in his throat, but he had managed to force them out.

Mitch examined his face. Scott must have passed whatever test he was put under, and Mitch gave him a big smile. “You’re forgiven.”

Scott squinted at him, suspicious. “What? No teasing?”

Mitch gave him an – he hated this – adorable half smile. Scott’s heart may or may not have melted a little bit. “Because you didn’t really gain anything from apologizing, this time.”

Scott was… well, he didn’t know how he felt about the short angel sitting beside him. He didn’t _hate_ him, and that by itself was a major warning sign to cut all ties with the heavenly creature. But, he didn’t want to.

Mitch was now focusing on Mr. Novak, and Scott tuned in to the instructions he was giving out for a small activity.

“I want you to think of your favorite character from something, as long as they have a personality. Then, I want you to write a short character study about your character, including their flaws, their good qualities, and their goals. Get to work!” Mr. Novak clapped his hands in a ‘chop chop!’ manner and went back to his desk, taking out his phone and smiling at something.

Scott smirked. “Looks like someone has a little lover,” he said airily, jabbing a thumb at the now grinning Mr. Novak, who was typing something on his phone.

Mitch glared at him. “Stay out of his business, Scott.”

Scott was taken aback at how smoothly his name exited Mitch’s lips. He would have expected an insult, or his last name. But not his first.

He shook it off and said, “Anyway, I think I’ll do Spongebob.”

Mitch’s head shot up so fast Scott feared he’d get whiplash. “ _I’m_ doing Spongebob,” he said in wonder, brown eyes meeting blue ones. Scott broke the eye contact (it was beginning to feel like eye-sex, and he didn’t need that) and his gaze rolled skyward. “We like the same show, big deal. It’s not like we’re identical twins or something.”

Mitch looked away from Scott and blushed, hard. “I’ve already started, so you have to pick a different character. We can’t do the same one.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because.”

Scott decided to avoid another argument with Mitch and accept his reasoning, deciding to write his character study on Sherlock Holmes from BBC’s Sherlock, instead. That was also a fabulous show.

They worked in silence.

Scott’s attention kept wandering away from his paper and instead focusing on Mitch. Who knew that his tongue poked out a little when he was concentrating? Scott continuously ripped his gaze away from the angel, but his eyes kept wandering back to him. He was in such a dilemma he only had three sentences written down when Mr. Novak walked up to the front to close the class.

“The character study is due tomorrow. Tomorrow you will pair up with your table partner and discuss how your two characters would interact, and then I would like you to write a short story about it.”

A girl in the front raised her hand. “So we’re basically writing fanfiction?”

Mr. Novak sighed. “Yes, I suppose we are. Now, I expect you guys to have finished—”

He was interrupted by a short rap on the doorframe, and everyone’s head whipped around to find a _human_ standing in the doorway, wearing a brown leather jacket and a smirk on his face.

“Cas, you almost done?” he said in a gruff voice.

The grin that had taken over Mr. Novak’s face made _Scott_ want to smile. The very thought made him gag.

“Yes, Dean. Have the study finished by tomorrow, please!” the angelic teacher called as the students stampeded out of the classroom. By now this ‘Dean’ had made his way to Mr. Novak, who was putting his laptop away in its case.

Scott, because the universe was out to get him, had spilled his pencil pouch and was hurriedly stuffing them back into it.

“Hurry up, Cas, we need to pick up Sammy for dinner.”

“I know, Dean. One more thing.”

There was a sudden silence, and as soon as Scott finished putting his utensils away, he looked up to find Mr. Novak and Dean kissing.

Oh. _Oh._

Scott yanked on his backpack quickly and high-tailed it out of the classroom. It wasn’t _right_ to see your teacher kissing someone. Even if it _was_ cute.

Scott raced to his dorm room, desperate to find some peace and to get the thoughts of kissing a certain other angel out of his mind.

0o0

When Scott entered the dorm room, he expected peace and quiet. Maybe some eighties music and Avi lounging around, but that was peace compared to his day.

Unfortunately, he was greeted with four people talking animatedly, and rather loudly.

Two of these people happened to be Kirstie and Mitch.

Mitch happened to be sitting on _Scott’s bed,_ and that brought on too many thoughts to be comfortable for Scott. He preferred _none._

As soon as he stepped into the room, it was as if someone had pressed a mute button. Avi and Kevin looked confused, Kirstie’s face lit up with a grin, and Mitch looked simply horrified. Scott was certain the same expression was mirrored on his own face.

“Hey, I didn’t know you knew Avi!” Kirstie said gleefully. And without a word, Mitch leapt up from the bed and flew out of the room. They all stared after him. Scott felt a little hurt, but he wasn’t surprised.

“What was that all about?” Kevin asked.

“We’re in English together. We don’t get along very well,” Scott said wryly. _‘But you were getting better,’_ a small voice inside of his head told him. Scott quickly shut it out.

“Ah,” Avi said wisely, as if this were a great revelation. “Mitch has always been a drama queen. Don’t take it personally.”

Scott snickered into his hand. He sat down on the bed, saying, “Do any of you watch Sherlock? I have this assignment….”

Avi immediately burst out talking about BBC’s Sherlock, and Scott smiled to himself. Perhaps he could handle one human. And Dean seemed pretty cool too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And… end chapter! I can’t believe I finished this all in one day! This one ran a little long, too… I’m really pleased. See you guys next Sunday! :D
> 
> Also, I have a challenge for y'all. If you write the whole Spongebob-Meets-Sherlock thing, send me the link through the comments or private messaging, and I'll read your story and leave a comment and vote on it. ;)
> 
> turn-the-pages


	3. When You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirstie turned to look at him, all big brown eyes and pity. “I know how you feel about Mitch. Denying your emotions is not going to make them go away.”
> 
> “E-emotions?” Scott spluttered, stopping mid-stride. Kirstie didn’t stop her momentum. “How I feel about Mitch? What are you talking about?”
> 
> He ran up to Kirstie, his heart hammering in his chest. Even his own heart was lying to him.
> 
> Kirstie rolled her eyes. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Scott.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait - life got in the way! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

About a month into the school year, Scott had finally accepted his fate.

He may have had a tiny, totally excusable crush on Mitch. One that came and went, mind you, given how incredibly rude and annoyingly kind the angel was. The two of them were like two puzzle pieces that occasionally fit together, but mostly refused to get along. With the situation being thus, it made no sense for Scott to feel any sort of attraction to Mitch at all. Which meant that they should be separated at all times.

He went to Mr. Novak with this problem, expecting a little sympathy and an excuse to work on the literature assignment on his own. Without Mitch. But they would still be sitting next to each other, because he wasn’t _that_ annoying.

There was a small glitch in the plan named Dean, who happened to be in the room with Mr. Novak, stuffing his face with a bacon cheeseburger.

“Kid,” Dean had said before Mr. Novak could answer, his tone with a condescending lilt too it, as if he were Scott’s superior in any way, shape, or form (which he wasn’t), “you need to suck it up. We’ve all had bad project partners in the past. Deal with it. Besides,” Dean shot a grin at Mr. Novak, “he’s an angel. Can he really be that bad?” Dean then proceeded to lean towards the angel, a sly grin on his lips.

Scott was out of the room before the two could do anything mentally scarring.

“Jesus, Scott, get a grip,” Kirstie laughed as Scott finished his tragedy of a tale. “They’re a cute couple. And don’t say it,” she added as Scott opened his mouth, which he quickly snapped shut, frowning.

“Say what?” Scott asked, already on the defensive.

“‘Angels and humans should not be together, although they are better than demons and angels,’” Kirstie recited, her voice comically low in imitation of Scott. Scott’s wings flared out in indignation before he could stop them.

“I wouldn’t—”

“Yeah,” Kirstie said nonchalantly, “you would.”

“Ok, maybe so, but you have to admit it has a ring of truth to it.”

“No, Scott, it doesn’t.” Kirstie turned to look at him, all big brown eyes and pity. “I know how you feel about Mitch. Denying your emotions is not going to make them go away.”

“E-emotions?” Scott spluttered, stopping mid-stride. Kirstie didn’t stop her momentum. “How I feel about Mitch? What are you talking about?”

He ran up to Kirstie, his heart hammering in his chest. Even his own heart was lying to him.

Kirstie rolled her eyes. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Scott.”

“Enlighten me,” Scott said with all the air of a three year old.

Kirstie raised her eyebrows and stopped suddenly, sitting down on the grass. She patted the spot beside her.

Scott was suddenly not in the mood to be enlightened on his feelings for Mitch.

“Um, I think I’m good,” he muttered down at her, avoiding her gaze. The courtyard was actually quite beautiful during autumn.

“Sit. Down,” Kirstie hissed, her eyes briefly flashing red. Scott thought about flicking his own eyes black in response for a split second (this was rather close to the middle finger among demons), but he elected instead to lower himself onto the grass, yanking up a few pieces and starting to tear them up. Anything to avoid Kirstie’s gaze.

“Thank you,” she told him peaceably. “Now, I know you know what I’m talking about.”

“Nope,” Scott said, popping the ‘p’.

Kirstie shot him a look. “Fine, if you’re going to be difficult, be difficult. Here’s the situation: I know for certain that you are attracted to Mitch. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that you’re at least on the edge of falling in love with him, if you aren’t yet. And I’m pretty sure you already are.”

As soon as the words registered, something clicked. Scott’s not sure what, but something definitely clicked. If he was a more poetic person, he might have said it was like he had been asking a question over and over again, but no one had the answer until right here, right now. But, of course, he wasn’t. So something just clicked.

Only, he couldn’t be in love. His parents’ love had been passionate, fiery, and fleeting. This warm, gooey, fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach felt like it would reside there forever. This was not love. It was a crush.

Scott suddenly became very aware that someone was looking at him, and then he remembered that Kirstie was still here. He told her as much.

“Gee, thanks,” she told him. “Lunch break’s almost over. Bye, Scott.”

All he could do was wave his hand vaguely at her, thinking distantly that he hadn’t had time to actually eat anything.

oOo

Science was one of the few classes in which a demon was teaching, which was a nice break from the constant stream of angels in Scott’s fucked up college experience.

Mr. Lehnsherr was a stern man that didn’t reveal too much about himself, except that he was eerily close to his students’ ages and he had an incredibly sweet husband named Charles.

Charles was a genetics professor over at another university (and yet _another_ human that Scott begrudgingly liked, although everyone liked Charles), and since the class, Science 101, was focusing mainly on genetics and heredity this unit, Mr. Lehnsherr was bringing Charles Xavier in for the next few weeks.

Now, the class was excited for this because, due to past experiences of Charles interrupting class to give Mr. Lehnsherr his forgotten something or other, Charles makes Mr. Lehnsherr irrationally happy. A happy Mr. Lehnsherr means a kind Mr. Lehnsherr, which means no grueling homework for the night.

Scott was looking forward to the class for these reasons plus one: Although Charles was a human, he behaved rather like an angel (proving Mr. Lehnsherr’s hatred of angels to be pure prejudice, but that was for another time). Scott was going to pay close attention to their relationship for… a personal project. Yeah. A personal project which had nothing to do with Mitch.

“Dude, Lehnsherr’s already grinning like an idiot,” Avi greeted him as Scott slid into the neighboring desk. Scott smirked at the human as he set down his bag with a loud _thunk._

“That’s fantastic,” Scott told him distractedly. He was on a mission: ask Avi about his supposed ‘feelings’ for Mitch. Kirstie was probably just messing with him, but he had to make certain of it.

The two watched Mr. Lehnsherr, a normally straight-faced, rather grumpy young man, interact with Charles happily, kissing him on the cheek lightly when he though no one was looking. Charles grinned, glancing at his husband with large blue eyes.

“Can I ask you a question?” Scott asked Avi after a moment.

“You just did.”

“I swear,” Scott growled, already in a bad mood. “I’ll rip your head off one day if you carry on with that attitude.”

Avi raised an eyebrow at Scott’s behavior, but didn’t continue to tease. A good decision, Scott thought, satisfied. Scott twisted in his chair to get a good look at Avi. Avi stared straight back, looking at Scott in a way that screamed, ‘ _Well? Spit it out!’_

“Alright, um,” Scott began, his brain suddenly short-circuiting. He was getting a little nervous, which meant the world was ending, because Scott never got nervous, and by Satan, what was Mitch _doing_ to him? “I was talking to Kirstie a few minutes ago….” He trailed off, uncertain of how to bring up the question.

Avi was getting impatient. “Scott, we’re not here for story-time. Just ask the question.”

“Okay,” Scott said. They only had a few minutes before class started. “She said that she thought I had feelings for Mitch. Do you agree? Or do you think that she’s delusional, which is more likely.”

“Pfft,” Avi said, looking at Scott like he’d just asked the stupidest question he possibly could. “Of course I agree with Kirstie! I’m not an idiot – everyone thinks that you’ve got the hots for Mitch. It’s obvious!”

Even though it wasn’t as eloquently put as Kirstie had done, it was still confirmation of her theory. Because it was only a mere possibility. No, it wasn’t even that. Because a demon having feelings for an angel was ludicrous, impossible, and downright unheard of. If his mother caught a whiff of this, he’d be disowned right on the spot.

“No, it’s _not_ obvious, because I don’t,” Scott spat, whirling back around in his chair to face the front of the classroom. Avi, an affronted expression settling over his features, opened his mouth to say something to Scott before he was interrupted by the bell Mr. Lehnsherr rung when class was starting and Charles’ British accent filling the room.

Scott smirked, proud of his timing, and lost himself in watching Mr. Lehnsherr and Charles interact. They probably fought a lot, because angels and demons, even if he wasn’t technically an angel, simply weren’t compatible.

oOo

When Mitch walked into the English classroom, he was greeted by a sulking Scott, who was slumped in his chair with his hood pulled over his eyes, his arms crossed.

“You know you’re going to have to pull that down as soon as class starts, you know,” Mitch told him as he slung his bag over his chair.

Scott scowled at the angel’s condescending tone. “Does it look like I give a fuck, featherface?” he snapped, refusing to look at Mitch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mitch step back a little, as if he were physically taken-aback by Scott’s tone and choice of words. But, Scott couldn’t bring himself to care. He had his own demons to face. Ha. Demons.

After a few seconds in which Scott did not apologize, Mitch plopped into his seat, the scowl on his face fit to rival Scott’s. “What’s got your tail up your ass?” Mitch asked bluntly, pulling his notebook and pens out angrily. Any other time, Scott would have laughed at Mitch’s behavior. Now it just scared him that any of Mitch’s actions were endearing in his eyes.

He managed to bite back the _‘The fact that I have to spend an hour and a half with you,’_ because he didn’t want to completely ruin their delicate friendship. “Nothing, just a failed experiment,” he said instead, refusing to meet Mitch’s eyes.

To elaborate, the reason Scott was so upset was because Charles and Erik were perfectly sweet and compatible in class, further confirming Kirstie’s belief that demons and angels could actually be together. His only comfort was the possibility that Charles and Erik were angrier in private, but that was unlikely.

“Experiment?” Mitch asked, clearly asking for more detail. There was no way in Hell that Scott was going to tell him all of that.

“Ah, uhm, nothing, really,” Scott stammered, distracting himself by scribbling a crude smiley face on his notebook.

Mitch eyed him suspiciously, but Scott was once again saved by class starting.

“Alright!” Mr. Novak said loudly as he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. “I don’t have too much to say, but I do have a presentation to show you all and some chapters to read. Again, your assignment is to write a story that shows us how you and your partner’s characters interact. Let’s get started.”

Somewhere in the middle of the presentation, Scott mumbled, “I’m sorry. I was upset earlier, I shouldn’t have called you that.”

He mustered up the courage to look at Mitch, who was beaming at him, looking the happiest Scott had ever seen him. Then, as if Scott hadn’t already been confused enough, Mitch reached over and gave Scott’s hand a grateful squeeze, his hand lingering a little longer than necessary. Scott blushed a bright crimson, for once thankful the classroom was plunged into darkness for the presentation.

He tried to focus on what Mr. Novak was saying for the rest of the class period, but his thoughts kept drifting off towards Mitch.

Oh, Lucifer, he was in _fucking love with fucking Mitch._

What the _fuck._

oOo

Now that he had come to realize his feelings, Scott had a sudden, bizarre urge to tell Mitch about them. It was after classes had ended, but Scott knew that Mitch tended to stay in the main building for a little while after to talk to his friends or ask teachers questions. He searched all around the school with no luck, and so he finally made his way to the main exit, his heart heavy.

Luckily, as soon as he went out the doors, he found Mitch in the middle of the stairs that lead to the sidewalk. Scott looked at him for a moment, frowning at the way Mitch’s eyes were closed, his face turned up towards the sky, his lips moving rapidly.

“Mitch!” Scott called, racing down the steps towards the angel. “I have to tell you something!”

He reached his angel and grabbed his arm. Mitch’s eyes flew open, and he look at Scott in terror. “No, Scott, not now, let _go—”_

A blindingly bright light flooded through Scott’s vision, and he felt the familiar drop of his stomach as he felt himself shoot upwards, his grip tightening on Mitch’s arm as something tried to pull it off of him, refusing to let go no matter how hard this force tried to pry them apart. Color briefly swirled through his line of sight, dazzlingly bright, before everything went black and silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it!


	4. The Not-So-Glorious Stairway to Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! I tried to get it out as soon as possible, and I hope you enjoy!

Scott blinked his eyes open, heart thudding, and tried to fight against his instinct to scream. He could feel something solid and wet underneath his back, and he was staring into an endlessly gray sky.

Fuck.

He couldn’t even try to guess where he was, and the only clue he had was that Mitch had something to do with his sudden transportation from the steps leading to the school. Slowly, as his head was throbbing with a dull ache, he lifted his head and peered curiously around.

From this action he could tell he was lying in the middle of a cracked, old road surrounded by an endless green sea of grass, his upper body alarmingly close to a gigantic puddle. The puddle’s smooth surface was occasionally marred by raindrops, which Scott could also feel on his bare arms and face. He craned his neck, and saw Mitch and his huge mottled wings pacing furiously a few yards away, his wings flapping in agitation.

“Mitch?” he said weakly, pushing himself up onto his elbows and trying not to reveal how relieved he was to see Mitch. Which had nothing to do with the angel himself, he just didn’t want to be here alone. Yeah. “Where are we?”

Mitch’s head had perked up at the sound of his voice, and now he was walking towards Scott, the expression on his face nowhere near holy. “ _You_ are here only because you fucking _grabbed my arm when I told you not to_ ,” Mitch hissed through gritted teeth.

“You cursed,” Scott said in wonder, completely disregarding Mitch’s words because there was no way in _Hell_ this was his fault. “You blasphemed. An angel blasphemed.”

He tried not to snicker as this fact dawned on Mitch.

“Whatever!” Mitch told him, a blush still faint on his cheeks. “What matters is that because you didn’t let go, and now I’ve brought a fucking _demon_ into _Heaven_!”

Scott felt the blood drain from his face, and he quickly leapt to his feet, his tail whipping anxiously behind him. “Heaven?” he mustered.

Mitch looked like he was ready to punch Scott’s nose in. “ _Yes_.”

“This isn’t how I imagined Heaven would look.”

“It’s my, well; it’s my own little slice of Heaven.” At Scott’s confused look, Mitch continued. “Each angel has a little piece of Heaven to themselves, kind of like a bedroom. I’m sure demons have their little torture chamber down there or whatever. It virtually takes up no space, and it reflects whatever I’m feeling. It looks different depending on my mood.”

Scott looked around. It was now pouring rain, flattening his hair to his skull, and thunder rumbled up ahead. Mitch was annoyingly dry. It was clear that Mitch wasn’t happy with him or the situation.

Scott thought briefly about apologizing, but he decided to instead say, “We don’t have personalized torture chambers in Hell—” He was cut off by a loud rumble, shaking the Earth and nearly knocking him off his feet. “Geez, Mitch,” he started. “I know you’re upset, but you—”

“That wasn’t my thunder,” Mitch said in a small voice. As if on cue, a bright light with a man’s silhouette in the center suddenly appeared, and Mitch reached out and tapped Scott on the forehead.

Scott was standing in an open valley, green grass tickling his bare feet and flowers dotting the hills. “What the f—”

“We’re in an empty piece of Heaven,” Mitch explained, cutting Scott’s blasphemy short. “It’s most likely being prepared for a new fledgling.”

Scott just nodded, gazing around. _This_ was more like how Scott pictured Heaven: disgustingly bright, warm, and beautiful. “What was that light?” he asked after a moment.

“The Archangel Michael,” Mitch said gravely. “He’s one of five Archangels, and they’re more powerful than the rest of us. They don’t leave Heaven; they consider themselves above Earth and its sins. He must have sensed your… evilness in the fifteen minutes you were here.”

“I can’t be all that evil,” Scott joked. Of course he was evil; he was a demon, for fuck’s sake.

Mitch mustered up a grin, although small. “Yeah, you are. But I like it.”

The last three words struck a chord within Scott: he suddenly felt like he could ride a rainbow onto the rooftops and sing to his heart’s content, which naturally made him want to rip his own eyeballs out, because he could not _possibly_ feel that good about an angel. He really wanted to say ‘ _I like you too’_ but when he opened his mouth, he said, “An _angel_ liking _evil_ and admitting it in the middle of _Heaven?_ What has the world come to?”

Mitch’s grin fell off of his face, and Scott mentally kicked himself, because he was an absolute _idiot._

“I guess the only solution to get him off of our trail – because he _will_ find us – is to get rid of you, which would require me to—”

Scott didn’t know why, how, or when; all he knew was that his lips were suddenly on Mitch’s and it felt _fantastic._ He felt Mitch freeze briefly in shock before slowly starting to kiss him back, and Scott was in bliss, endless bliss, until Mitch quickly pulled away and looked him in the eyes. He only said four words, four simple words, and Scott blew it.

“Do you mean it?”

 _‘Yes.’_ “N-no!”

After the word forced itself from his lips, Scott was immediately stuttering to take it back: of _course_ he meant it, he didn’t mean to say that, he wasn’t thinking, it was his first reaction to this new, exciting thing – but Mitch was gone before Scott could tell him to wait.

The sound of Mitch’s wings flapping was still in Scott’s ears when thunder started to rumble above him, rain just starting to sprinkle over the vibrant grass.

“Mitch!” Scott called, ignoring the now-heavy rain soaking his hair and the lightning streaking through the gray sky. “Mitch, get your feathery-ass down here!” He’d gotten the nickname from Dean; it was fun to say. “I take it back! I take it back! I meant _every_ _fucking moment!”_

Scott was searching the field for a pair of large wings or the blue jacket Mitch had been wearing earlier, and he spotted a pair of large, dark wings.

Unfortunately, they weren’t Mitch’s.

They were huge and a beautiful silvery gray, and there were six of them. They belonged to a tall man with combed back, business man-style black hair and startlingly blue eyes. Unlike Mr. Novak’s, they held no kindness when looking at him.

It hit Scott at once: he was a demon, he was in Heaven, and this was Michael, the archangel that happened to be second in command up here in paradise. This would not end well.

“And by the hand of God,” Michael said, his face expressionless and voice calm despite the storm of anger Scott could see behind blue eyes, “I shall smite the wicked.”

Later on, Scott would look back on this at laugh at the sheer _cheesy_ the line was. In the moment, though, he was fucking terrified.

“I’m not as bad as some demons,” Scott laughed nervously, taking a step back. Michael stepped forward and continued walking until he was nose-to-nose with Scott. His eyes had an other-worldly glow about them, and he narrowed them, his dark eyebrows pulling together until his face was the perfect picture of holy wrath.

“You are a demon from Hell,” Michael told him.

“Well, duh,” Scott said snarkily. That was about the moment Michael placed his palm flat on Scott’s forehead, a blindingly white glow shining underneath. Scott squeezed his eyes shut, a searing pain shooting through Scott’s every nerve.

 _‘This must be what they call ‘smiting’,’_ Scott thought, grimacing.

He felt Michael’s other hand grip his bicep and he felt themselves lift into the air and the archangel’s six wings beating through air echoed through his ears. He mustered up the courage to open his eyes just as Michael flung him back towards Earth, which looked like a tiny speck from where they were.

Scott fell back to the third planet, the stairway to Heaven (yes, the song happened to get stuck in Scott’s head as he fell to his inevitable death (Robert Plant can go to Hell)) rushing past him in graceful spirals and Heavenly glow, and he fainted about halfway down.

+

Scott blinked his eyes open, the fuzzy world around him focused until clear again. He was in a bed, and when he turned his head, he discovered he was on a bed in the middle of a row of beds, some occupied, some not. The walls were painted a cream color, pictures hanging on them, and a bright white tile held the furniture.

“What the he—”

“Infirmary,” interrupted a voice from beside him.

“Huh?” Scott said intelligently, turning to find Avi sitting beside him. The human raised an eyebrow.

“You’re in the school infirmary. A couple of angels coming from the art school found you lying in the courtyard and took you in here. You’ve got a nasty burn.”

“You?” Scott asked. He was on a role.

“And possible brain damage,” Avi added, his eyebrows shooting upwards. “Kirstie visited a couple of times, but she has class right now. Kevin doesn’t _want_ to visit, and Mitch is MIA. So here I am, in charge of the task of waiting for you to wake up and creepily watching you sleep. You drool in your sleep, by the – whoa!”

Scott had shot up at the news of Mitch, and it definitely took effort for Avi to push him back down onto the bed. Yeah, he worked out, and he was proud. Deal with it.

“I wasn’t kidding about the brain damage! The nurse has to check you before you stand and possibly make it worse!”

“Mitch – I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s in trouble!” Scott made an attempt to sit back up, but Avi was surprisingly strong.

“Settle down hot-shot. First, you’re going to tell me what happened. Then, you’re going to admit that you’re completely whipped for that goddamned angel. Afterwards, you can go and heroically rescue Mitch or whatever you thought was going to happen.”

Scott decided he was going to ignore the ‘whipped for Mitch’ comment and focus on the first step to get the hell out of here. He was either going to tell the long version or the short version – take a guess at what he chose.

“I accidentally went to Heaven, Mitch freaked, Michael chased us, we went to paradise, we kissed, Mitch ran away, Michael caught me, _fucking smote_ me, and hurled me down to good ol’ Earth. Can I go now?”

Avi shoved him back down. “You _kissed?”_

Scott blushed and muttered, “Yeah, but I jacked it up – which is none of your business, by the way.”

Avi frowned at him and said, “I’m going to guess that Mitch is probably still in Heaven if not here, and you can’t get there on your own.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to find an angel stupid enough to get me there,” Scott said.

Avi perked up at this. “I think I know just the guy.”

+

“You have to take me to Heaven,” Scott ordered Kevin as soon as they had pulled him to the side of the hallway, where they had seen him walking.

Avi shot him a look that said, _calm down,_ but Scott ignored it and continued to stare urgently at Kevin, waiting for his answer.

Kevin stared right back at him, his expression bewildered. “What? No!”

“You _have_ to, or Mitch’s blood will be on your hands.”

Avi stepped into the conversation, holding up a hand in a signal for Scott to shut up and let him talk instead. “Hold on, drama queen,” he chuckled. “What he means is: because of Scott’s pig-headedness, Mitch is stuck in Heaven and very likely in trouble because of reasons Scott would like to avoid explaining. He needs you to fly him up to Heaven, drop him in Heaven’s prison or whatever you have, and leave. He’ll figure out the rest.”

Kevin’s frown slowly grew more and more severe as Avi rattled on, and there was a tense silence afterwards in which Scott had to physically bite his tongue to keep from blurting out something stupid.

“Alright,” Kevin said slowly, hesitation coloring his voice. Scott knew not to say anything to make the angel jump off the bandwagon. “I’ll meet you guys in the courtyard in a couple of hours; I have a class that I need to get to.”

Before Scott could ask any more questions, the four-winged angel had disappeared into one of the classrooms lining the hall.

+

The two hours waiting for Kevin were the two longest hours of Scott’s life.

He paced the courtyard, his tail whipping frantically behind him and effectively tearing a bush or two to shreds – to the amusement of Avi, who was sat in the grass a few feet away, nose buried in a textbook – and he nearly burst into tears of relief when he spotted Kevin walking into the green grass towards him. Don’t judge – by now he was worried as fuck.

As soon as Kevin was in earshot, Scott said, “Take me to Heaven. Now.”

“Easy there, tiger,” Kevin said, the corners of his lips twitching up. He glanced at Avi and his textbook. “Don’t you guys have classes to be in?”

Avi looked up from the page. “Oh, yeah.”

Frankly, Scott’s classes had completely slipped his mind, due to the drama of Mitch and Heaven and kissing and all that crap. “Whatever. Beam me up, Scotty.”

Kevin frowned and placed his palm on Scott’s forehead, eerily similar to the way Michael had done the same. He tried not to stiffen up.

“I’m going to send you up without going myself,” Kevin explained, noticing Scott’s confused and slightly horrified expression. “It’s a thing only Seraphim and Archangels can do; luckily, I’m a Seraph. I can’t risk being caught with you up there. Be careful, and no more _Star Trek_ references.”

Before he could come up with a witty comeback, Scott felt himself shoot upwards, saw a blur of color, and found himself standing in a blaringly white hallway with what seemed like hundreds of doors along the walls. Heaven’s prison.

Scott didn’t take the time to stare in wonder. He immediately set down the hallway instead, confronted with a time-consuming task: find Mitch’s cell.

That is, if Mitch was even in the prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it, and I'm really looking forward to writing the next and final chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this is a new story! I have posted the second chapter, because this one was technically already posted on Testing… Testing.. One, Two, Three, even though it was only a rough draft. Otherwise, I’ll be posting on Sundays.
> 
> I'll also do this thing where I slip in a character or reference to another fandom in here, and if you guess, you’ll get a free virtual cupcake and fun GIF of the fandom! So, go guess, my sweets!
> 
> ~turn-the-pages


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